Hood
by The Dark Shark
Summary: One Shot - Carmel is terrorised by The Fairy Tale Killer, a serial killer who commits murders based on the beloved Fairy Tales. Suze is determined to get to the bottom of these killings but the truth will be far more terrible than she had ever imagined.


**This is my entry to Lolly's _Once Upon A Time In Shadowland_ contest over at the Monthly Mediator Writing Challenge forum. I know she'd love more entries, so go ahead and check it out!  
****  
For a more comprehensive idea on killings done based on fairy tales, I suggest reading _Brother Grimm_ by Craig Russell. I obviously don't own either the fairy tale characters or the Mediator ones.**

**My first attempt to write a fic in more than a year, so please be gentle.**

**Love, Aina**

**-----**

**12th March, 9.42pm, Carmel By-The-Sea Library**

The rain fell relentlessly, as I stood by the window and stared out into the darkness. I couldn't remember the last time rain had fallen in sunny Carmel but the dark clouds gathering these past few days had been threatening to spill.

"Miss, 15 minutes to closing time."

I spun around and saw the young librarian pushing the book trolley, smiling at me. I nodded and smiled back. Or should I say tried to smile. My face felt too heavy these days.

Stepping to the desk, I shut the opened books and piled them into several stacks. All of this was for nothing, I thought disappointedly to myself.

"Suze."

I barely looked at him as he walked from behind the shelves. "They're closing, Paul."

"Forget that. Look what I found," he said, somewhat excitedly. He was flipping through an old and ratty book, in such contrast to the smooth cleanliness of his looks. With my uncombed hair and a blouse which I haven't changed out of since school today, I felt just like that book.

He stopped at a page, and looked up. As usual, the steely blue of his eyes unnerved me, just a little.

"Do you know that this isn't the first time someone has killed people based on Fairy Tales?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Well, this book covered the 1990s murders but according to this chapter, several Fairy Tale murders had been happening since the 60s. What we usually have then, are either copycats or someone who thinks they're being inventive, but is actually not."

My heart beat a little faster, and I had to admit that his excitement was infectious.

"Okay, this is good. No, this is great. This means we can start looking at the names of the serial killers from before and look up what happened to them. Maybe some of them had descendants who decided to continue their work," I said, "or they could have died, became a ghost and decides to kill people just because they can. They know they're never going to get caught now."

Paul nodded, but there was a strange expression on his face. Like he was thinking of saying something which might upset me.

"What is it?" I asked.

He kept quiet, and then said slowly, "I found something else besides the murders. It's crazy, Suze, but… I found something on Amelia."

I was confused. "Amelia? She's in here?"

"Yeah, and you never did find out why she ended up a ghost, right?"

"No," I answered. "That's why I couldn't help her, she didn't remember how she died and I couldn't figure it out."

Paul flipped the book until almost at the end where the appendices were. At a page, he stopped and I leaned over to see what was in it.

There was a full-page black and white photo with a caption at the bottom. It says, "_A copy of the actual crime scene photograph of Amelia Henderson at the House & Hawk Water Tower, 1992_."

The girl in question was lying on her back, on top of a pile of what looked like straws. Her eyes were closed and she was wearing a long sleeping gown, with her hair - which I knew personally was blonde - over her shoulders. Her hands were clasped on her stomach and except for the dark stains on her fingers she actually looked like she could be sleeping.

But the detail in the photo which made my heart raced was not the body of Amelia Henderson. In fact, it was the spinning wheel, placed perfectly besides her body as if waiting to be recognized.

Then Paul said it.

"She was Sleeping Beauty."

-----

**14th March, 8.30am, Junipero Serra Mission Academy**

"No way."

"Suze, it's the only way -"

"No, it's not and I refuse to stoop to her level. Can't you just understand that?"

It had been more than a day after we appeared to have figured out who was behind the fairy tale murders in Carmel and a little less than 12 hours after Paul suggested that we tricked Amelia into thinking that we've found a way for her to move on. I was adamant that we were honest with her, lest that she went on another rampage but Paul insisted that if she knew what we actually wanted, she would become even more enraged.

"Suze, listen." I kept on walking when suddenly I felt his hand gripping my arm. I stopped, startled.

Paul pulled me into a nearby empty classroom and shut the door. Then he turned to me, looking annoyed.

"I assume you've read about other killers, before this? Like Ted Bundy, Charles Manson, Jack The Ripper?"

"Yes," I snapped, without meaning to. It was just that he was being condescending.

"Then you would have realised that the best way to handle killers is by not tipping them off that we're onto them. That's how we get them, when they're unaware. It gives us the upper hand."

Sighing, I looked down at the floor. He sounded very convincing but to be honest, I wasn't sure of anything anymore. What I was sure of though, was that I wanted to get on Amelia's good side. I didn't want yet another murder - I didn't think I could survive the aftermath of that.

I decided it was worth a try, so I said, "If there's a way we could get through to her, to make our case and find whatever's left of her humanity -"

"It's because of Jesse, isn't it?"

I stopped, aware that he was staring at me. Paul's gaze was neutral, but I could tell by the way his lips had thinned that he was upset. I didn't know whether it was because of his memory of Jesse himself or by my refusal to simply let go.

"No," I answered abruptly. But when I saw that he didn't believe me, I admitted with a low, "Yes."

He groaned and shook his head like he couldn't believe what I just said.

"Look, I know what you're thinking, Paul," I quickly said, before he could start whatever it was that he wanted to say. "But if we're right, and Amelia's the killer then she'll likely know where he is. Come on, Paul, you know it's possible. If we're nice to her and we gain her trust, then she might be compelled to open up and tell us -"

Paul whipped around, moving as if he was going to slap me. I flinched, but he merely dumped his books onto a table.

"When are you going to get it, Suze? He's _dead_!"

I was momentarily shocked, but swiftly replied, "Stop it, Paul. Don't."

"It's been three months," Paul said, his tone reeked of scepticism. "THREE MONTHS. People don't disappear for three months and then come back!"

"You don't know that!" I retorted, my voice rising. I could feel my face becoming hot, but I knew then that he wouldn't stop. He was towering over me, furious.

"Let's be realistic, Suze. If anyone wants to get to you, who would they pick off first? It would be him, wouldn't it? You said so yourself, he was always there when Amelia first appeared to you. And two days after you tell her you can't help her, he went missing. Do I need to be a freaking genius to figure out what happened? Well, maybe you do, since -"

"Stop it!" I felt tears ran down my face, but I kept on yelling. "You act like you know everything but you don't! So just shut up Paul, just shut up!"

And then because my throat felt too painful for me to yell anymore, I sat down at one of the desks and cried. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried since Jesse was gone, but I couldn't stop the flood of tears this time. My body shook and I covered my face, conscious of Paul and yet too powerless to stop crying.

After a few minutes, I had calmed down enough to take my hands off my face. When I opened my eyes, there was a handkerchief on the desk where I was sat. Paul was standing nearby the window, not looking at me.

I took the handkerchief and looked at it. It wasn't the one he gave me the first time I cried in front of him because of Jesse - that day long ago where I thought I had lost Jesse forever. And it wasn't the same handkerchief he used to gag me back in 1850 either. I used it to wipe my face, way too hurt to be ashamed of breaking down.

There was an awkward silence, but I barely noticed it. I wanted so badly to be right.

"He was dead once, Paul. To have him taste life for a short time before losing it again..." I took a deep breath, afraid I would start crying again. "I don't want to believe that the universe - whatever it is - would be this unfair."

He didn't say anything, but turned to get his books and walked to the door. "Come on, we've got to get to class."

I gathered up my books and whatever's left of my dignity and followed him. But as I glanced at the boy who once tried to separate Jesse and me, I saw that his eyes had softened.

-----

**14th March, 3.26pm, Mission Academy cemetery**

The sun beamed down our backs as Paul and I made our way around the cemetery. Truth was, I had no idea if Amelia would be there. She hasn't made any appearance since her violent goodbye to me - my shattered mirror and princess phone needed a lot of explanations - a few days before the New Year. But it was worth a try.

Paul held up a finger to his lips and then pointed to a headstone about 10 feet away.

The unmistakable glow of our target ghost was barely noticeable under the sun, but there was no doubt it was her. Following his lead, I quietly crept forward.

As if on cue, Amelia spun around. Paul and I froze, caught. I promptly said, "Hi Amelia."

She frowned. "What are you two doing here?"

I glanced at Paul but he didn't look like he wanted to say anything. So I stepped slowly forward, making sure that my face was open and friendly. That was the key when dealing with an unpredictable – or should I say crazy – ghost.

"We wanted to talk to you, Amelia. I mean, we haven't heard from you in such a long time... it made us wonder if you're okay."

Amelia looked wary, her blue eyes moving between me and Paul. "I'm fine. But I thought you made it clear that you can't help me, so what was the point for me to meet you anymore?"

"Well, that's where you're wrong." Paul strolled past me to where she stood. "We did find a way."

What? "Wait a sec, Paul, I'm not sure -"

He grinned, guessing that he had successfully surprised me but keeping his eyes on her. "Suze is a little nervous, she hasn't done it before. But I have."

"Paul - Amelia, I think I need a second to talk -" I practically ran to where they were standing, but Paul had his hand on the ghost's arm and she was looking at him as if he was her guardian angel.

"Done what before?" She asked, looking pathetically hopeful.

"Nothing!" I yelled, before he could make up more unrealistic stuff. "There's nothing, we just wanted to ask you a few questions about some things that's been happening here."

But she wasn't listening to me, her hope too high to be crushed. "Done what, Paul?"

Paul licked his lips, looking smug. I could have slapped him there and then, and wouldn't have felt even the tiniest bit sorry. "Bring a ghost back to life, of course."

"You can do that? Really?"

"No!" I grabbed her so that she was looking at me. "No, we can't. Paul's wrong, okay, we don't have that ability."

She stared at me with distaste. "You know, Suze, you haven't exactly been very helpful to me. I thought you're the mediator but you haven't done anything to help me so far."

"What? I have been trying to help you ever since I met you!" I said, incredulously. "Look, I've found out how you died. This is a big clue -"

"I don't want to know how I died!" She screamed, pulling away from my grasp. A branch snapped from the old tree behind her. I wasn't sure if that was her doing or a mere coincidence, but I knew I had to be careful. Of course, she wouldn't have been this way if Paul didn't falsely get her hopes up in the first place. I couldn't believe he went back on his words, but I decided I'll settle him later.

"Amelia, you said you wanted my help," I explained. "What I do is help people who are stuck, like you, to move on to where you're supposed to be. Usually there's some unfinished business -"

"Yes! You've told me! But he said he has a way to get my life back!" She stabbed a finger at Paul, before turning to him. "You can, right?"

"Like I said. I have no reason to lie." His eyes were very bright. "Only thing is, Amelia, you have to help us out too. We need some information only you have."

Oh, I got it now. He was going to do this the morally corrupt way. I just stood there and shook my head - there was no way she would listen to me now.

"Anything!"

Paul smirked, knowing he had won. "Let's set up a meeting then. We'll meet you at the Mission church this Friday night, and after you've tell us your story, we can go ahead with the deal."

Amelia nodded, and then gleefully materialized away. I glared at Paul. "What were you thinking, lying to her like that?"

"Oh, come down from your high horse, Suze. You know she wouldn't listen to you. You had your chance months ago and you screwed up." He practically spat the last word, looking dismayed.

"I screwed up? At least I'm helping them while you only _pretend_ to help them when you're actually - are you listening to me, Paul?"

But he was looking at the ground somewhere behind me. When I moved to follow his gaze, he pulled me back. "Let's go, Suze."

"What are you looking at?"

"Let's just go."

Being stubborn and also angry at the way he had hijacked my conversation with Amelia, I ignored him and walked around the scattering headstones, looking for anything that might have caught his attention.

There was a lump of matted fur nestled at the base of the old tree with the snapped branch. My heart instantly speeded up; perhaps subconsciously I knew what it was even as I tried to deny it. Moving closer, I noticed that there were some tiny baby boots scattered around the fur.

But the fur was not just fur. It was attached to a body, dark orange dirtied with mud and blood, lying stiff with blank eyes staring at me. His tiny feet had slashes, as if someone had tried to cut them off.

"Oh no," I moaned, kneeling down beside the tiny body.

I had hated him, from the moment I saw him. Ungrateful creature, always swiping and clawing at me even when I was the one who fed him. But he didn't deserve this. No way.

For a second, I was glad Jesse was not with me. Seeing Spike like this would have hurt him more than anything.

That was when I knew, my time to be nice was over.

-----

**16th March, 4.12pm, Carmel Valley Hospital**

Throwing the dried flowers into the trash can, I refilled the vase with some water and put in the new bouquet. Then I switched off the bathroom light and went out into the connecting room.

"I don't know why you even bother, Suze."

I placed the vase on the table by the window, smiling despite the bleak statement.

"It makes the room smell nice," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's either that, or the pine air fresheners and we know how much you just love those."

Adam chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't believe you still remember that."

"My Betsey Johnson blouse smelled like a pine tree for a week, Adam. Even after three washings!" I exclaimed, in mock anger.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, it wasn't my fault that the bottle was leaking. I just grabbed the nearest thing around to wipe it off. Also, not my fault that you left your clothes lying around your room. In conclusion, none of it was my fault."

We laughed, and it felt good. Really good.

After the laughter had died down, we sat in silence for a while. I glanced around the hospital room even though I'd been here countless of times. The yellow walls, the cards on the table, the radio by the bedside. So familiar and yet so foreign.

"Listen, Suze," Adam said, shifting from where he sat against his pillows. "The doctor said I could leave in a couple of days, as soon as they've checked that my ribs are healed. They said it's better that I go back home, so I could familiarise myself with the place again, you know."

I swallowed, not liking the topic of the conversation but unable to avoid it. "But it's only been two weeks. That day they said you'll be here a month. Are you sure you're really okay?"

"What else do you want me to do? Sit here and feel sorry for myself forever?" His voice had risen, and I knew that despite the appearance he had put up, he wasn't really alright. I don't know if he ever will be and that _hurt_.

"No, Adam, that's not what I want you to do," I answered quietly.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Suze. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's alright, don't apologize."

He took his hand down, before lifting it again to adjust the bandages on his eyes. "It's just that... sometimes I wake up and I don't know if I'm awake or if I'm still sleeping. Everything's the same. And it's so damn frustrating."

I didn't know how to answer, so I didn't say anything. There was no point in telling lies to make him feel better and besides, he knew me too well now to detect if I was lying.

"How's the investigation going? My parents wouldn't tell me anything and there's nothing about it on the radio anymore."

I hesitated, but then decided against telling him about Spike. "Well, I heard they had some leads but I don't really know. I've been barely keeping up either."

Adam moved his head to the general direction where I was sitting. "You've been barely keeping up? Suze, are you crazy?"

"Adam -" I started, but he cut me off vehemently.

"Don't Adam me. We've talked about this. Jesse's gone. Cee Cee's –" He stopped, as if saying the obvious was too much. "I'm freaking blind! So far you're still okay but if the guy is still out there, you could be a target. You can't forget this!"

There was a panic note to his voice and I wished it was that simple. A serial killer on a rampage but human was still a mortal and easily defeatable. A ghost? It was another story.

"You're right, Adam." I reached out and placed my hand on his, because I didn't know how else to comfort him. "I'll keep up with the news, okay? And I'll be careful."

He squeezed my hand, and though his brows were still knitted together, he gave a little smile.

-----

**16th March, 10.39pm, 99 Pine Crest Road**

_"It has been two weeks since the last attack by the Fairy Tale Killer which had resulted in the death of a student from the Junipero Serra Mission Academy. So far, the police are keeping quiet as the investigation continues but the public is anxious to know the latest development in the most horrifying serial killings to take place in Carmel. While some suggest that the killer may have decided to stop his spree, others are demanding that an arrest be made. According to the..."_

I walked up the stairs as my mother continued her report in the television. If anything I was glad she was working, having her around the house and fussing over me had been too exhausting. David was watching the news, a look of intent and worry etched on his face. I didn't have the energy to talk to him, choosing instead to retreat to my room.

Nothing reminded me more than the fact that Jesse's not with me than my very own room.

This room was when I first saw him; this room was when I last did. The window seat, the bed. Not that we did anything nasty - he was from another century after all - but it was _Jesse_. Being with him was enough.

Paul was wrong. I would know it in my heart if Jesse was truly gone.

Turning on the radio to eliminate the painful memories, I sat on the bed with the stack of papers I had taken from my desk.

_Victims_

_Father Dominic. Gepetto.  
__Pinocchio doll. Crushed._

_Cee Cee Webb. Alice In Wonderland  
__Toy rabbit. Suffocation._

_Adam McTavish. Rapunzel's Prince.  
__Long hairpiece. Blinded._

_Spike. Puss In Boots.  
__Baby boots. Stabbed._

_Jesse de Silva. Missing._

I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back against the headboard. Reading the notes took me back to each horrible crime - the discovery, the realisation, the struggle to keep my sanity as soon as I realized the people whom I cared deeply for were really gone. I didn't know why I was torturing myself like this. But there was something still nagging at me. Something which I felt was missing.

The connection between all of these.

If Amelia wanted to get to me, why bother with the murders at all? Why not just kill me? All the ghosts who I'd encountered before and had problems with only had their eyes on me. But so far there hasn't been any attempts to hurt me.

I didn't understand why.

And the fairy tale thing. Was that important, or just for fun? If it was important, I couldn't even think of why. If it was for fun, it was just sick. Plain sick.

But I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

-----

**17th March, 12.02am, Mission church**

"You're _lying_! Tell me the truth!"

I was livid. From the moment we arrived here about 2 hours ago until now, I'd been nothing but nice to Amelia even though I had been burning up inside. I even let Paul sweet-talked her and sat back while she practically swooned at him. It didn't matter if I was wasting my time, Paul wanted to do it his way and I let him.

But enough was enough. With every denial that came out of her mouth, I felt my anger mounting until I couldn't contain it anymore.

"Suze, she already said -"

"Shut the hell up, Paul, I didn't ask you," I retorted, my hands tightening around the Bible.

Amelia was sobbing, sitting limply in the middle of the circle of lit candles. "I already told you the truth. I don't know where he is."

"I find that hard to believe, Amelia," I said slowly, straining to control my voice. "You know why? Because _everything_ points to you. His disappearance right after you told me I'd be sorry that I didn't help you, the people I care about being dead, the fairy tale clues. _The fairy tale clues_. You got killed that way and you're doing the same now!"

"I don't remember... how I died," she whispered.

I almost screamed in frustration then, not caring that we were in a sacred place.

"She's got a point," Paul said calmly, as if nothing unusual was happening at the moment. Oh no, it was just Suze Simon, interrogating yet another ghost. "She didn't remember how she died, how could she have known how to murder them in that manner?"

Glaring at him, I hissed, "What if she's only pretending to not know? You're the one who gave me the book with the information on how she died. You're the one who convinced me of this and now you're not sure? What the hell, Paul!"

Paul looked a little alarmed at this pronouncement, and he tentatively stepped closer to me. "I think you need to calm yourself down, Suze."

Paying no attention to him, I walked over to the circle of candles and crouched down so I was level with the ghost. Amelia took a quick look at me, a terrified expression on her face.

"Amelia," I said softly, though I was dangerously close to shouting in her ears. "Just tell me where Jesse is and I won't make it painful for you. Ghosts can move on the easy way or the hard way, and you should make your choice smartly."

She seemed confused.

"M-move on? But he said I could have my life back. Didn't you?" She looked over at Paul, who shrugged nonchalantly.

"I said I would do that only if you give us the information we're looking for," he explained. "And so far, you haven't."

"But I already did! I don't know who this Jesse is! I don't know who killed your friends!" She cried, and the candle lights flickered. "Why won't you believe me?"

Standing up, I walked over to the pews. My head was throbbing and I felt like throwing up. I wanted to believe her but every time she said no, I kept thinking about Cee Cee, and Father D, and Adam, and it hurt so much. How could she not know? How could she not know where my Jesse is? How could she sit there and just _lie_ to me?

She was just a ghost. And yet she had caused me so much pain, it was as if she was a reincarnation of the devil himself.

Fine, she wanted it the hard way, then I'll give her the hard way.

Turning to face Paul and Amelia again, I said to her, "Okay. I believe you. I'll give you your life back."

Before Paul could stop me, I flipped open the Bible and started to read the words needed for the exorcism.

Obviously, we didn't set out to tell her the truth. We said the Bible and the candles were needed for her resurrection. Paul and I never agreed that we would actually perform the exorcism.

Well, too bad for her.

As Amelia happily thanked me from afar, Paul barked at me, "Suze, what are you doing? Suze!"

But I continued the chant, dodging him even as he tried to take the Bible from me. I was too far gone to listen.

Just a second later, a hole opened up in the sky above Amelia's circle and some form of red mist floated down around her. I think at that moment she realised what was actually happening, and freaked out. She screamed and tried to step out of the circle but she was too slow. The mist wrapped thickly around her and she was lifted up into the hole, screaming and cursing at me.

I didn't care. When the hole had closed and the mist had disappeared, I finally stopped reading and closed the Bible with an "Amen."

The church was quiet and dark, the lit candles all had blown from the force of the exorcism. I unstuck the candles from the floor and placed them inside my backpack. Surprisingly, my heart was beating normally and I didn't feel the usual adrenaline rush I experienced whenever I performed an exorcism.

I didn't feel a thing.

To his credit, Paul didn't make any of his usual callous comments. When I got up and slung the backpack over my shoulder, he just said, "I'll take you home."

-----

**17th March, 7.25am, 99 Pine Crest**** Road**

I woke up shivering. It felt as if the morning fog had rolled right into my bedroom.

Stumbling out of bed, I shuffled over to the window and shut it. In a way, I had gotten used to waking up in the cold, of not having someone else shut the window for me in the mornings. But I told myself that it was just my imagination. There was no way I could ever get used to losing Jesse.

Even if exorcising Amelia took away my chance of knowing where he really was.

I stood there and watched the sun rise, feeling empty and pointless. I had half a mind to continue my sleep, but I was starving. I didn't eat dinner last night, being too anxious to go to the church and when I got back I was too tired to do anything but get into bed. So I picked some clothes randomly and went into the bathroom.

Never got used to changing my clothes in my bedroom though.

After showering, I went downstairs. I wasn't sure what I was going to do today but I couldn't stay in the house or I'd drive myself crazy. My mom and Andy were working, David was apparently still sleeping, Jake and Brad went surfing and I was alone.

Taking out the cereal from the pantry, I was about to open the fridge when a ringing sound suddenly started from the living room. Jolted, I froze for a second before realising that it was David's alarm clock. Yeah, he needed an alarm clock loud enough it could actually wake up the whole house. And guess who actually bought that for him for his birthday? None other than my very own mother. I've never forgiven her for that.

As I ate, the alarm rang incessantly. After about a minute, I wondered what David did last night that he couldn't wake up this morning. Maybe he stayed up for some unpronounceable web conference or discussing the Fairy Tale Killer with his geeky friends again.

I was done eating and washing my bowl and still the alarm rang. At that point I got majorly annoyed, so I called upstairs to him.

No answer. Grumbling, I stomped up the stairs, the alarm sounded louder and louder the closer I got to his room. I banged on the door, yelling over the alarm to tell him to shut his stupid clock.

"David! Hey David!"

When he didn't answer, I opened the door, which he had left unlocked. The room was as neat as I recalled from the first time I had entered it. I stepped inside and saw him lying on his stomach on the bed, his legs all tangled up in his sheets. He was clearly too deeply asleep.

Shutting off his alarm clock on the bedside table, my poor ears took a while to stop the residual ringing sound and get used to the silence. I turned to leave when I realised that the silence - was too silent.

David was not snoring, or if I wasn't mistaken, moving at all.

I frowned, staring at him. When I saw that he was lying very still, I started to feel panic. All this time I thought he was sleeping, what if he had actually passed out? Flipping on the bedside lamp, I placed my finger under his nose to check whether he was breathing.

That was when I saw the spots of blood on the pillow around his mouth. Fully panicking now, I scanned the room to see if there was a phone to call an ambulance when my eyes shifted to the table at the other side of the bed.

I immediately stopped. What I saw made my blood run cold.

There was a fruit basket. Inside the basket were three apples. One of them had been eaten halfway through.

I stumbled backwards to the dresser and screamed.

-----

**17th March, 1.16pm, Carmel County Jail**

The door buzzed open and I jumped up anxiously from the bench.

"Paul!" I blurted out, so relieved to see a familiar face. The metal bars were separating us but him being here made me feel as if this was all going to turn out alright.

He strode over, looking really worried. I was glad that I was being kept alone, I didn't need anyone listening to the conversation we were about to have.

"Suze, what the hell is going on? Why are you here?"

I sighed, feeling like I was about to cry and hating myself for it. "I don't know. They're saying... they're saying that I did it, Paul. That I killed David. Can you even believe that?"

"That's crazy!" Paul said with disbelief and if I was right, with a little anger. "Did they tell you why?"

"Something about my fingerprints being all over the evidence and that I was the one who found him," I said, shaking my head. "Where's my mom and Andy? Do you know if they informed my mom?"

Paul nodded. "Yeah, they've informed your mom. You're still underage after all, they can't question you without a guardian. I can't believe they're keeping you here, you're not arrested, are you?"

"No," I shook my head glumly. "But they're not taking any chances with the murders that'd been happening. It's insane! I was only going to help David, not kill him! And I don't get how it could have happened either, we got rid of her already."

"What do you mean? His death is related with the previous murders?" Paul asked.

"Yes! They said he died just a few hours before I found him which doesn't make sense because I exorcised Amelia way before that…" My mind flashed back to David's cold body, so small and fragile. "It's just David. How could she kill an innocent kid?"

"Are you sure this was her? Just because there were some apples didn't mean that it couldn't be a copycat trying to imitate her."

I sighed again. "I don't know... I guess -"

Wait a second.

"Wait..." I said, looking at him. "I never told you there were apples."

Paul paused, and for a moment it seemed as if he had lost his words.

"I never told you about the apples. I never told you I found them with David," I repeated, firmly this time.

No, I refuse to believe it. No.

But the more he kept quiet, the stronger this horrifying realisation continued.

Paul tsked and shook his head, looking down at his hands. "Suze, Suze."

I stared at him numbly. "What's going on, Paul?"

His blue eyes held mine, and his expression was one of regret. He sounded almost wistful as he said, "Well, I guess you'd have found out eventually, anyway."

I held my hands to my mouth to keep myself from screaming, but I felt as if I was shattering into pieces right there and then. I kept shaking my head, not wanting to believe that the Fairy Tale Killer...

It was _Paul_.

"It's you!" I screamed in shock. "You're the Killer? But – but –"

I was sputtering, too stunned to comprehend.

"Please, Suze. As much as I would like to get that honour, it wasn't just me," Paul spoke without any traces of emotion, save pride. "I am human, after all, and we humans leave traces of ourselves behind. I couldn't have done all that and not get caught, that'd be impossible."

Through my shock, I managed to cough up another word. "Amelia."

He smiled. He actually smiled!

"Poor dear Amelia. Yesterday went better than I thought it would. I expected you to lose it but to _exorcise_ her - that was much better than I expected."

My knees felt weak. I was gripping the bars for support but as I did, my shock was slowly turning into anger.

"If she's cooperating with you," I said, trying to keep my voice hard, "then why didn't she admit to it? Why would she lie about you?"

Paul just shrugged. "Because… she had no idea she was cooperating?"

"What?" I didn't understand at all. In fact, I still couldn't believe we were actually having this conversation.

"She had no idea I was controlling her, Suze," he said in an almost mocking manner. "Obviously."

"Then how -"

"See, you don't even know what I'm capable of. What you're capable of!" Paul suddenly blew up, alarming me. I stepped back from the bars, half-conscious to the fact that this really was a stranger in front of me. The Paul I knew was no longer him.

"You're too good for your power, too tame to learn more, to afraid to push the boundaries of what is possible. You're _wasted_!"

"Ever since I realised I had this power, I've been looking for ways to expand it. You're the first thing I ever lost. Whatever, I moved on. But to have these worthless dead beings come to me and claim that I didn't know better, that there was another mediator who was great at what they do - what was that about? It was absurd. I never fell for a dead, I knew my place in this earth. You, on the other hand, didn't. Since you had him, all you ever do is go on dates and ignore the potentials that you could have. You've travelled back to 1850, for God's sakes! Why are you ignoring what it is that we're capable of?"

I felt breathless; my chest filled with stabbing pain. Paul sounded like a power-hungry psycho. I couldn't even be insulted that he called me a 'thing' because I was too overwhelmed by this dramatic personality change.

"So all that 'no hard feelings' stuff, all that 'let's be friends' talk that you gave..." I trailed off, knowing that it was all nothing but deceit.

"Oh boy, am I glad that I don't have to put up with that anymore!" He exclaimed with obvious relief. "Pretending to be nice all the time, to be supportive while you cry about your precious Jesse, it was _disgusting_. I mean, Suze, you're really hot but the way you went on about the 'love of your life' was pathetic. And I never thought you to be the pathetic kind."

I exploded right then. "_I'm_ pathetic? Look who's talking! You freaking killed my friends, my stepbrother, you - you blinded Adam, and you even killed Spike because I didn't want to learn more about my power? What the hell is the matter with you? You're completely mental! I don't even know who the hell you are!"

Paul's laughter was loud and venomous, echoing around the stone walls of my cell.

"You have to admit it was genius though, right, Suze? The whole fairy tale thing. And poor little Amelia coming at just the perfect time. I couldn't have found a more innovative way to make you believe that she was guilty. It was so easy, too easy."

"When I get out of here," I spat, itching to smack his face and hopefully break some bones, "you'll be very, very sorry, Paul Slater."

He let out another bark of laughter, and then shook his head. "Nope, don't think so, Suze. Firstly, I won't be in Carmel anymore. With all these murders, do you think my parents would let me spend my senior year here? They care too much about their son."

I gritted my teeth, my knuckles white from gripping the bars so hard. Caring about their son, my ass. His parents couldn't give a damn if he was in the Arctic. It was just another deception.

"And secondly, do you think I would just let your friends die and have you come after me? They're not my target after all. You are."

I didn't know what he meant but I pushed away the desire to ask him. I didn't have to ask though because he was too ready to explain.

"You think you're in here just for David, Suze? You're sadly mistaken."

"Then…" my curiosity got to me then. "I don't get what you're saying."

He started pacing in front of me. "Let's look at the clues, shall we? Who found all of the victims? Who knew all of them really well? Who, amongst all the Junipero Serra students, has the potential to be absolutely unpredictable?"

It suddenly dawned on me what he was implying. "You mean... you can't be serious. Paul, are you saying that -"

I felt faint. He _couldn't_ be that heartless.

"There's no evidence!" I cried, desperately. "They won't find anything to implicate me, they won't –"

Paul waved my words away. "It doesn't really matter. Sometimes all you need are suggestions. And you have more than enough of them, Suze."

"First day at school, threatening to break another student's finger. Aggressive behaviour with the nuns. Back in New York, history with the police. Three months ago, losing her beloved boyfriend," he recited, a fake sombre look on his face. "It's no wonder Susannah Simon went crazy. Her own mother would testify that Susannah had visited a number of therapists but none of whom seemed to be able to penetrate her disturbed psyche. It seemed that the troublemaking girl who just loves to talk to herself had finally graduated into a full-blown serial killer."

"Perfect, don't you think?"

All the blood had drained from my face. I felt light-headed, holding on to the cell bars for dear life. My mouth was moving but I couldn't say a word.

"That was why..." I whispered, feeling tears form in my eyes. "Father D... Cee Cee...David… they were the ones who knew..."

"Sort of made you wish you had told your mother about your 'gift', eh, Suze?" Paul smirked.

All I saw was the smile of the devil, the real devil whom I had falsely accused Amelia of being. I had called him the spawn of Satan before, but now I wasn't sure if he wasn't Satan himself.

"Why?" I practically wailed in despair. "Why didn't you just kill me? Why are you doing this?"

I just couldn't believe it. I couldn't _accept_ it.

"Because like your idol Buffy Summers once said - albeit in a different circumstance - that the hardest thing to do in this world is to live in it. And now you get to experience that first hand."

I fell to the floor, crying too hard to continue. I felt so helpless and weak with the weight of accusations on my shoulders.

How could he do this to me? _How?_

Paul turned to leave. "Well, Suze, I'd love to stay and enjoy the show but I have a flight to catch. So this is goodbye."

"Wait!" I called out. "Please... tell me where he is."

At first he didn't seem to relent. But then he said, "I made him Beast – both had somehow made the most beautiful girl fall in love with them, both became human in the end. Unlike the real Beast though, Rico didn't survive the fall."

Suddenly he laughed, and glanced back at me. "Sucks that the second time he died, he didn't come back, huh, Suze? I guess he just didn't care about you that much after all."

I was too shaken by his explanation to really understand his words. All I knew was that… my Jesse was gone. Really, truly, _gone_.

"YOU PIG!" I screamed, wanting more than ever to hurt him in any way I could. "You bastard!"

Paul was at the door, but he turned to me again, looking amused.

"You're wrong, Suze. I'm the Big Bad Wolf. Misunderstood, alone, dangerous. But in my story, the predator never became the prey. Too bad there's no Hunter to save you now, _Red Riding Hood_."

I gaped at his words. As he spoke over the buzzer for the guard to open the door, I completely lost it.

"Paul, you can't leave me here! Paul!" I yelled, crying hysterically. "You can't leave me here! I didn't do anything! You can't leave me here!"

But no one listened to me and the heavy metal door closed, sealing my fate.


End file.
